


Only In Your Wildest Dreams

by iliterallydecepticanteven



Series: Surviving and Thriving [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Brief mention though nothing explicit, Happy Valentines Day!, M/M, Obligatory "This is my first time writing smut" warning, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating will change, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29443389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iliterallydecepticanteven/pseuds/iliterallydecepticanteven
Summary: There is a line between fantasy and reality. Optimus doesn't know how thin or easily broken it is. But he does know he really, really shouldn't cross it. Even when the subject of his most recurrent fantasy exists before him and is more than willing to shatter that line for him.(Mild spoilers for "Of Gutters and Galaxies")
Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime
Series: Surviving and Thriving [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162736
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54





	Only In Your Wildest Dreams

If there was one truth Optimus knew about himself, it would be that his interfacing history was painfully average.

Not that was anything wrong with an average history or any history or any lack of history. He wasn’t going to shame someone about their interfacing habitats or lack thereof. But for him, personally, he had always wanted more than he had been willing to admit to.

He could count the number of previous berth partners on one servo, two of them still being in contact with him, which was its own embarrassing mess. (Blackarachnia would occasionally joke about it, but always in a quiet voice and only to him. Sentinel, unfortunately, had tried to weaponize their previous encounters, which Optimus shut down immediately with a threat to strip him of his Prime title. Which would be an abuse of power, but one that most would be willing to overlook.)

Each and every one of those encounters had been the textbook definition of normal interfacing. There was no deviation from the norm, no kinks explored, no roleplaying involved, and they always ended with everyone involved spent and satisfied. Which, yes, was good. He was glad that nothing had gone wrong and that he always had considerate partners. But it always left him feeling a little unsatisfied, similar to the feeling of only consuming three-fourths of a cube of energon. It was sufficient, but he always wanted more.

He knew that maybe he could get more. He could speak up and ask his partner to do more to him, to fulfill one of the fantasies that plagued his dreams. But most of his partners were one-night stands, flings, or a pre-existing couple that wanted to shove him in the middle to spice things up a bit. And his fantasies were not the type he was willing to just tell anyone. Beyond the issue of embarrassment, there was also the issue of some of them treading dangerously close to treason.

Since he’d never experienced them, there were a bunch of fantasies he wanted to try out. Those are the ones he considered embarrassing but not dangerous. Any combination of being tied up, gagged, blindfolded, being manhandled or reverently praised, being inflicted on him, or him inflicting that onto his partner. Going slowly and gently, whispering praises and adorations to the point where one of them overloads before they even retract their panel. Going fast and hard, finishing in under five cycles, with dents in his armor and paint transfers all over his thighs. A couple of scenarios that fed into his love for slight exhibitionism, like fragging on his desk, against a window in a high-rise, in the supply closet in the middle of a busy shift in the Metroplex.

If he had been in a consistent relationship with a fellow Autobot in the Academy, he would have revealed all of that to them. Perhaps even tried some of them out. But there would be fantasies that would never have been revealed to someone on his side.

The biggest one, the one that plagued his dreams and made his face flush pink and his valve lubricate instantly and his fans click on, was what he liked to refer to as getting fragged into becoming a Decepticon.

He had heard one story about it in the Academy, about how the Decepticons allegedly would seduce Autobots into joining their side and that if you got captured by them and they started acting nice to you, it meant they were trying to woo you into their berth and their faction. There were also the cruder claims about how Decepticons would just take what they wanted, whether that be your life or your valve. Optimus brushed both of them off, scoffing to the person who told them that obviously if you got captured by Decepticons, they would just kill you instantly or leave you to starve in the brig.

But for some reason, the seduction one stayed with him.

He would wake up out of interface dreams, gasping, his panel open and lubricant leaking all over his berth and his spark pounding. He would faintly remember massive servos pinning him down and a deep voice purring about how beautiful and tight he was and how he would make an excellent bond mate.

In the millions of stellar cycles long dry spell that came after his expulsion from the Academy, the dream became more and more regular, until it was so consistent, he could set his chronometer to it. What changed was the Decepticon in it.

Before Earth, it would just be some generic faceless warframe. His processor wouldn’t even give them a paint job or a specific frame type. Just big servos and a deep, rumbling voice. Occasionally, there would be bright red optics that would grow hazy with lust as the dream went on, but that was rare.

Then Earth happened. And the mech in his dreams took on some very worrying features.

The first time the Decepticon in his dream morphed into Megatron, Optimus actually snapped out of recharge shaking in fear. He was disgusted to find that he was still aroused even after his frame powered up all of his defense mechanisms and a voice in the back of his processor telling him to run like Unicron was coming after him.

The dreams stopped for a while after that. Returning to Cybertron and the stress that came with becoming Magnus killed his interface drive completely. He couldn’t even relax enough to self-service. The mess with the Quintessons made it worse and he felt like a shell drifting through the solar cycles, trying to ensure everyone was alive and working on negotiations.

It was only after the ceasefire with the Decepticons was finalized that some of that stress started to ease up. Co-existing with the Decepticons aboard the _Vengeance_ was surprisingly easy. Other than the occasional bar brawl and shouting matches over rewritten history, everyone got along.

The dreams came back and with his experience now being up close and personal with Megatron, they were more detailed than ever. The first one that came back, Optimus almost ripped himself out of. Almost.

Then the imaginary Megatron slid a servo up the inside of his thigh and purred against his audial fin, _I have never been in the Well of All Sparks, but I imagine I can find a similar ecstasy between your legs tonight_.

Optimus stayed in the dream.

* * *

It was the dream that pushed Optimus to push the relationship between them.

They had been stuck in what Optimus would consider a flirty yet professional relationship. They would end up back-to-back during battles, sit together in silence and read, and chat about their lives, the war, and nothing at all over Megatron’s oil blends. At times, it would seem to Optimus that Megatron was moving, finally about to make the first move, bring him into a tight embrace and kiss him until he was limp. But this move often just ended in the mech squeezing his servo affectionately before letting go or whispering a compliment to him. A very nice, professional, non-sexual compliment.

It was slowly driving Optimus insane.

He had never initiated his previous relationships, always having someone else come to him. So he was clueless as to what he could and could not do in this situation. He even began to doubt Megatron’s intentions, pondering if this was how he acted around most mechs in high positions. Then he saw him interact with Sentinel and, based on his stiff demeanor and glaring down at the mech, he realized that no, Optimus was definitely an exception.

The doors to the elevator swished open and knocked him out of his contemplation. The bright white of the labs lay before him, a major contrast to the dark purple hues of the rest of the ship. He steps off and makes his way to Lab Suite 4C.

“Optimus!” Blackarachnia calls out when she sees him step in. “Great timing. How would you feel about having a flamethrower?”

“No,” he replies automatically.

She huffs and hands the blaster she had been holding off to Bumblebee. After a knee injury (which Optimus swore up and down was avoidable if Strika didn’t insistent on having no mercy training sessions), he had been taken off scout duty, and to keep him from moping around the ship and getting under everyone’s pedes, Blackarachnia had offered for him to work as her lab assistant. Which wasn’t too bad of a fit for him, if the stories he told were true.

“You’re no fun,” she huffed. “I get put on the weapon’s development project and Bee and I are making all these great weapons for everyone. But no, you want low damage less-lethal weaponry.”

“Hey, bossbot,” Bee greets him, smiling at him as he places the blaster down on the bench. He pries off the side panel and starts soldering the inside.

Optimus sends the scout a smile before turning to Blackarachnia. Despite her cocked hips and crossed arms, he can see from her playful smile that she’s not actually mad at him.

“You came down to talk about some sort of high security clearance issue?” she asked. It wasn’t a question, more a confirmation. He nodded in response.

“Alright, we’ll use my office. Bee, don’t blow up the lab while we’re gone,” she said, turning away and heading to the back of the lab space. He gives a thumbs up in response.

Optimus follows her into a small office attached to the back of the lab space. A desk and some chairs take up most of the space, with mountains of datapads and a console taking up the rest. She sits behind the desk, picking up a datapad as he takes a seat. “Now, if this about the adjustments to Shockwave’s cannon, I’ve already told him a thousand times that lowering the volume means lowering the power—”

“It isn’t. And, uh, it’s not actually about something that requires a security clearance. Sort of.”

She looks taken aback at his sudden interruption. “Oh. Well, what is it?”

“I need…” he hesitates, not sure what to say here. “I need relationship advice.”

“Ooohhhh, With Megatron?”

Optimus nearly jumps when she says his name. “How do you—”

She scoffs and leans back in her seat. “Are you kidding me? The way he acts around you makes it obvious enough. He hasn’t acted like that with someone in millennia.”

He narrows his optics. “Who was the last person he acted like this with?”

Blackarachnia’s optics widen and she shakes her helm. “You do not want to know. I didn’t want to know but I got told and now I know, even though I didn’t want to know, so I’m sparing you from having to know.”

Optimus looks at her warily but doesn’t push it. “I need to know how to initiate things with him. We’ve been kind of stalled out.”

She smirked at him. “You never were one to grab the steering wheel in the relationship, huh?”

He rolled his optics. “You can judge me all you want after you give me advice. How did you do it? With Se—Slipstream?” He had to stop himself at the last moment from saying Sentinel.

She didn’t seem to notice the slip up and frowned. “Slipstream is a work in progress that I am not as far along with as I wish I was. But being put on a completely different work schedule has resulted in that getting put on the backburner.” She paused. “But, in the past, I’ve always just acted on what I thought was the right next step, or my emotions, or even both. I mean the first time I kissed Sentinel was after I saw my science exam scores.”

She smiled briefly before frowning to herself. “Honestly, now that I think about it, maybe that’s not the best relationship advice. But it could work for you. The mech is so smitten with you that you could try anything.”

Optimus lets those words linger with him as he left the lab, waving goodbye to Bee.

The right time. He wondered when that would be.

* * *

Turns out the right time would be immediately after a battle.

Optimus had watched Megatron get hit. The blast hit him from behind, colliding with his lower back. He heard the mech scream out in pain and began running towards him. Lugnut stepped in to cover them, sending a barrage of missiles at their attacker. By the time Optimus had gotten to him, Megatron had gone still and wasn’t moving.

“Frag, frag, frag, frag…” he muttered to himself, pressing a servo over his chest. He could feel the faint pulse of his spark. Just below that, he could also feel the heat of his armor, which had been made into a low red glow of heat from the blaster shot.

Optimus shoved a servo below Megatron, searching for the wound to begin applying pressure. His other servo went up to his comm, calling out, “Megatron got hit! He’s down! I need med evac now!”

A crackling response from the other end and he could hear engines approaching. Lugnut was still deflecting fire. Optimus could feel energon seeping into his knee joints, but whether it was Megatron’s or someone else’s, he did not know. The mech still wasn’t moving, his optics dull, but he could now see a slow rise and fall in his chest from his breathing. Over the sounds of shots and soldiers screaming, he could hear Megatron’s labored gasps.

It occurred to Optimus then that Megatron could die soon.

The medical ship touched down nearby and Optimus tried desperately to lift Megatron and begin dragging him over to the ship. But he was twice his size and all he managed to do was lift his torso up slightly. The Decepticon nurses had gotten to him by then, a hovering stretcher between them, and lifted Megatron onto it like he weighed nothing. Optimus watched, saddened by how light he appeared to them and terrified at how his body flopped like a fresh protoform.

He reached for the stretcher when a massive explosion behind them made him whip around.

Lugnut was knocked onto his back as a new wave of MTOs, these ones with grenade launchers, drew closer. The nurses had frozen in fear and Optimus shouted to them, “Go! I’ll hold them off!”

The nurses ran and before they even reached the ship, Optimus had sprung to his pedes, pulling out his axe. He rushed past a slowly rising Lugnut, swinging at the first line of soldiers. A couple of them stared at him in shock as an incision appeared in their midsections, their bodies getting cut in half and falling to the ground in a gruesome gush of synthetic energon.

Lugnut had rejoined him at his side, grabbing an MTO by their neck and chucking at the other soldiers, knocking them back in a fashion not unlike a game he had seen on Earth. (Bowling? That sounded right.)

He hears the medical ship lift off behind him and an anger ignites in his spark that makes it burn twice as hot. He lets out a roar and Lugnut joins him as he unleashes a fury he didn’t know he had in him out onto their enemies.

When the smoke cleared and the energon was beginning to congeal on their armor, he finally lowered his axe and let the tension out of his shoulders. He glanced himself over. Besides being filthy, he had a couple of small wounds that likely wouldn’t even need nanite gel to fix. He looked over to Lugnut and found him to be in worse shape than him, the most notable wound being a large bleeding hole in his shoulder.

Despite this injury, he turned to Optimus and proclaimed, “You fought valiantly against our foes, Autobot! You truly embody the Decepticon spirit!”

“Thank you, Lugnut. That means a lot coming from you,” he replied. He had long since learned that anything that wasn’t an obvious insult coming from the mech was meant as a compliment, no matter how odd it sounded. He looked upwards to the sky, where the _Vengeance_ could be faintly seen orbiting the planet. He needed to find a shuttle to get him up there as soon as possible. In his contemplation, he didn’t notice Lugnut staring at him.

“I will accompany you to the _Vengeance_!” Lugnut shouted and Optimus didn’t have time to say anything before he grabbed him with his good arm. The massive mech only hesitated long enough to ask, “Unless you would like to take a shuttle up?”

When Optimus shook his helm, Lugnut powered his thrusters and rocketed them into the sky. His tanks lurched at the feeling of nothing beneath his pedes while his spark raced at the openness of the sky around him. Any other time, a flight would make his spark pound out of its casing with joy, but now, with Megatron possibly dead in the med bay, he couldn’t focus on the trip and only on the destination.

They landed in the dock nearest the med bay but Lugnut didn’t let go of him. Instead, he kept him held tightly as he rushed to the med bay, only dropping him when they reached the threshold.

The med bay was utter chaos, with most of the examination berths filled and curtains drawn, medics and nurses alike rushing supplies and energon coated tools from one side of the room to the other. Calls for energon transfusions and fresh oil cover up whimpers of pain and the clink of removed shrapnel being dropped into waste bins. Somehow Ratchet spotted them instantly, leaving his nurses to finish a welding job to beckon Lugnut to one of the examination berths in the back of the room. The mech lumbered over and Optimus split away from them, approaching Red Alert.

She was a new addition to the med bay, having joined after Ratchet said he called in a favor. Realistically, Optimus knew it was because this was the first off-Cybertron assignment she had been offered in quite a long time. She was cleaning her servo and surgical tool off at one of the sinks and when she saw him, she shouted instantly, “His condition is stabilized. Post-op room two. If you bust his weld seams, your aft is scrap.”

Optimus felt himself blush as he nodded and thanked her. 

Red’s shouting lingers behind him as he rushes into the room. The door slides shut behind him and the chaos of the med bay turns into a low hum. The lights are low and cast purple hues on everything. He had seen lighting like it before a thousand times on the rest of the ship but here it invokes a different set of feelings from within him.

Megatron is laid out on the berth, his chest rising slowly with each ventilation. The spark rate monitor he is hooked to beeps quietly with each flare of his spark. Optimus can feel himself trembling as he draws closer until he is standing over the mech and looking down at him.

He falls to his knees and his face barely clears the top of the berth. He reaches out to Megatron, grabbing one of his servos in two of his own and squeezing tight. It’s limp, just like it was on the battlefield, but now at least he knows that the limpness isn’t a sign he’s about to lose him, about to witness his spark snuff out within its casing.

He lifts the servo up and presses the knuckles to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the metal there. He feels the servo tighten ever so slightly and looks up to find Megatron staring at him through hooded optics.

“Where…?” he asks, his voice trailing off. He looks around slowly.

“The med bay, on the _Vengeance_ ,” Optimus answers. “Thank Primus. I thought you were gone.”

A slow deep laugh rumbled out of his chest. “I have survived far worse than this. If Unicron truly wants my spark, he’s going to have to try harder.” He moved to sit up then, raising his midsection and getting his elbows under him. Optimus placed a servo on his back and pressed gently as if to aid in raising him up. Not that it would help a lot, he knew. After all, the mech was almost three times his weight.

Megatron gave a grunt as he swung his legs off the side of the berth and took a moment to breathe and let his spark stop pounding so hard. The number on his spark monitor had doubled with the exertion and was slowly lowering. “I do think I need a cube and some recharge though. Would you want to accompany—”

He stopped his words when he looked over and found Optimus’s helm turned away from him and his optics filled with tears. Megatron reached out, cupping his face in his servos and whispering, “Optimus?”

The mech let out a stuttering sigh and said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be crying because I’m not the one that nearly died. But the way you just—just went limp and the fact that I couldn’t carry you to the med evac ship and I had to give you someone else was just—”

A choked sob escaped him and he turned his face more into Megatron’s servos like he was trying to hide it. “I was terrified I had lost you,” he murmured into the palms.

The warlord just watched him for a moment, letting him sob into his servos before he moved them downwards to wrap around his chassis and lift the smaller mech into his lap. He held him in a tight hug and ignored the tears that began welling in his own optics. It had been several millennia since he had felt like this for another being.

He loosened his grip when Optimus pushed against his chest and looked up at him. His optics were still watery with tears and blown wide but there was a different expression on his face now, one Megatron had never seen on the mech before.

Optimus reached up with his own servos and cupped Megatron’s face this time, gently tugging on it. He bent down and let the smaller mech surge up at him and collide with his mouth. Despite being the initiator, Optimus gasped into the kiss. His servos tightened on Megatron’s face and he pressed his chassis closer. Megatron’s servos shifted, one going up to cradle Optimus’s helm and the other drifting down and slipping in between his thighs and massaging circles on his interface panel.

The feeling of digits rubbing against him and digging into his seams evoked a moan from Optimus and he pushed himself tighter against Megatron, spreading his legs to try to straddle him.

A loud monotone beep forced them both apart and they whipped around to find that Megatron’s spark rate monitor was registering his spark as having stopped. Optimus slid rather ungracefully off of the larger mech to find the pad that had been attached to Megatron’s chest had come off and fallen into his lap during their tussle.

The door swished open and Red Alert came barging in, scolding, “What the frag did I tell you about weld seams?”

Optimus got kicked out of the room and ordered to go clean himself off in the washracks. Had anyone else been ordering him around, he would have pulled rank. But Red Alert had already proven that she didn’t give a slag about rank when it came to someone endangering her patients and wrecking her surgical work, so he went without complaint.

He was fresh out of the shower and standing in the heat of the dryers when his comm pinged with a message.

_If you’re up to it, I’d love to continue where we interrupted. Meet me in my quarters?_

He didn’t even have to check who sent it before replying with a yes.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! I wasn't going to publish this until after I finished "Of Gutters and Galaxies," but I figured if there was a day to publish this, then it would be today of all days. Obligatory warning, this is my first time writing smut so it's not gonna be the best thing ever. Rating will go up to Explicit for the next chapter ;). Like I said in the summary, this does contain mild spoilers for my other story, which is just that surprise, Blackarachnia exists and doesn't suck! Her characterization here will make more sense once I finish the next chapter of "Of Gutters and Galaxies," but until then, just ride with her being OOC. This takes place after the end of that story, but again, wanted to get this out here for everyone to read since I know Valentine's Day sucks for some people so hopefully some fanfic makes it better!


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